


As I Want You to Hear Me

by karcheri



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Adult Five wears glasses you can pry this headcannon out of my cold dead hands, Adult Number Five | The Boy, Diego wants a soft romance, Five does too but he's emotionally constipated, Five has it all figured out, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Pseudo-Incest, Sort Of, poor Diego is along for the ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karcheri/pseuds/karcheri
Summary: “It’s hard to explain.”“Try me.”Five sighs.“I’m trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from it’s initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...let’s call it timeline 2.0.”“I don’t understand,” Diego says. Nutcase, he thinks. Insanely hot nutcase.This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; “I know you don’t.”Or: What I like to imagine alternate/Sparrow Academy timeline 2019 Five and Diego are up to
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	As I Want You to Hear Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title pulled from the poem "So That You Will Hear Me" by Pablo Neruda

Diego steps out of the shadows, casually flipping a knife in his hands, and cracking his neck. He’d been crouched behind that dumpster for at least two hours. Somebody was bound to show up eventually. This area’s like a local homing beacon for hopheads.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. It’s up to you.”

He throws his knife when the guy makes to bolt, pinning him to the wall of the boxing gym. Al is not going to be happy about the scratches but when is Al ever happy with him. Diego can deal with that later.

“Hard way it is.”

Diego grabs another knife from the strap around his chest and holds it to the man’s throat while he digs through his pockets. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for but he knows that he’ll find  _ something _ . He always does.

The guy is skinny, small and his clothes are mismatched and baggy. He’s shaking like a leaf with his hands in the air and when he opens his mouth Diego can see that what little teeth he has left are rotting out, chipped and blackened around the gums. 

The shorts come up clear but Diego has been around the block with this and he knows damn well not to leave it at that. Using one hand he pats the man down and smiles, victorious, as a little dime bag half full of clear crystal rocks slides out from under the man’s armpit and lands straight on the ground.

Diego doesn’t bend down to pick it up just yet, but smiles and presses the knife down ever so slighty against the guy’s neck, hoping to intimidate him enough to spill any information he has without having to actually hurt him. Guy’s not exactly running the trade from what Diego can see- he’s just desperate. He could be anybody. At best, he might be able to give some clues about where the real scumbags are hanging out. Living it up somewhere on all their blood money.

The junkie shakes and darts his eyes around, “Hey, man, that’s not mine-”

Diego knees him in the crotch and he sputters.

“Now all you have to tell me is where you got this,” he says, sliding his foot over to cover the drugs with his boot, “And then I can let you go.”

There’s a moment of silence and Diego thinks that he has the guy right where he wants him but then he starts ugly sobbing, struggling to pull in breath while snot drips down over his lips. Diego sighs and punches his free hand into the bricks. Another bust. 

He pulls the knife holding the man to the wall out and rolls his eyes, telling the man to “Get clean,” before removing the blade from his throat. He waits for the man to stumble a safe distance away before he moves to grab the bag, but he should’ve known better. Every junkie in the city turns into god damn superman when their fix is threatened. Christ, maybe he should send them on home to Dad. Give him another fun round of human experiments to play with.

Diego is crouched down and the bag is still under his foot when he hears the sound of running behind him, but he doesn’t turn around fast enough to stop the weight from landing on his back and he struggles to find his footing with the hands clawing at his face.  _ Son of a bitch. _

He lets out a groan and tries to throw the guy off but he’s so light that the force of it does nothing but encourage him to continue incoherently yelling into Diego’s ear. 

Diego pushes them both against the wall and slams his head back. There’s a crack as the other guy’s head hits the bricks and he finally jumps off Diego’s back, thank fuck, diving straight for the baggy that got kicked back towards the dumpster in their scuffle.

As he watches him run off, Diego pants and clenches his fists. When the man is out of sight, he closes his eyes and leans back against the wall of the gym- telling himself over and over again in his head that it’s not worth it to go after him. 

“There’s a drug den two blocks over. He’ll be heading there, if you’re curious.”

Diego cracks one eye open, and is met by head on by sharp green eyes and striking angular features. The man is a little shorter than himself and maybe a little younger but it’s hard to tell, and lean- sporting a suit and oxfords, like he’s just coming home from a dinner party with some trust-funds. His hair, too, is perfectly coiffed and shines in the glow of the streetlight, and Diego snorts. Somebody’s in the wrong part of town. 

“Enjoy the show?”

The man shrugs and squints at him, “Are you going to go after him?”

“Nah,” Diego says, lifting his head and half craning it to glance down the street, “More interested in you. What’s a person like you doing in a place like this?”

The man smiles, showing a dimple in one of his cheeks, but it reads more as forced than genuine.

“Watching you get your ass kicked, mostly.”

Diego pulls himself off the wall and crosses his arms, replying, “Funny guy, huh? You could’ve helped with that one, you know.”

The man shrugs again and this time the smile seems more real if still a little mocking, “Seemed like you had it under control.”

“Uh huh,” Diego says, walking over to him, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Up close, Diego finds that he can’t take his eyes off the man. He can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline still hitting him or if something about the man really just does it for him and he doesn’t care. He finds himself pushing closer.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, the man ignores the question completely, looking vaguely amused while Diego brackets him against the lightpole; “Shouldn’t  _ you  _ be at home now?”

Diego leans in until his face is right next to the mans and traces his jaw with his thumb, “I got a better idea, why don’t I go home with you?”

“I’d sooner go home with the junkie.”

“You don’t mean that.”

The man sighs and digs a pen out of his pocket. He grabs Diego’s hand off of his face and starts writing.

As he slips under Diego’s arm he says, “I do mean it,” and walks away, not stopping to turn around or look back- but when Diego looks at his hand he finds the word ‘Five’ followed by a phone number written on his palm in crisp black ink.

*

Diego holds the door open for his companion and glances around. At 6pm the place is practically deserted, only one stray lingering with their laptop out in the corner, typing furiously. Working on some pretentious novel that the world could do without, probably.

“Little late for coffee, isn’t it?”

“And who’s fault is that?,” he gets back.

Diego walks carefully behind him, grumbling, “How was I supposed to know what you meant?  _ Five _ isn’t a name.” 

He would have called earlier if he’d known, but instead he’d had to try to occupy his time the best he could until 5pm. He tried bugging Patch but even she was having a crime dry spell. He spent most of the day working out and watching cooking shows on the couch in his apartment.

“It’s my name,” Five says, and at the counter the barista nods at him, asking if he wants ‘the usual.’ Diego gets the sense that drinking coffee this late in the day is a regular occurrence for him.

Sitting down now, Diego leans back and drums his fingers on the table; “So your parents must be smartasses too then.”

He meant it as a joke, something lighthearted to keep their rapport going, but Five sits opposite him and looks completely serious. Diego knows immediately that he’s stepped on some sort of landmine here and makes a note to steer carefully around the subject from now on. He knows a thing or two about shitty families. 

“I don’t know. I was an orphan,” he says, and boy, is that a heavy bomb to drop on a guy you’ve known for less than a day. What did Diego do to deserve this? He fumbles in his head for an easy way to walk it back but before he can reply and find out Five is already at the counter collecting their drinks.

When he returns Diego already has a list of icebreakers in his head, fully ready to change the subject, but Five rolls his eyes and cuts him off before he can even start; “You can ask me about it, Diego. I’m not some delicate flower who’s going to start crying on your shoulder.”

No, Diego thinks privately, preppy clothes aside- nobody would ever call Five _ delicate _ . It’s in his mannerisms- the way he stands tense, as if waiting for something to go wrong, how he looks over his shoulder when he walks with his jaw clenched tight, how he gives Diego the full intensity of his stare when he talks to him but spends the rest of the time looking  _ around  _ instead of  _ at.  _ No, Diego can already tell that Five is all bite. And also possibly a paranoid nutcase. A  _ hot  _ paranoid nutcase.

“Hey,” he says, taking a sip of his green tea, because his body is a temple, thank you, “I was an orphan too. Maybe  _ I’m _ delicate about it, you ever think of that?”

Five smiles, flashing that cute little dimple again, and rests his elbow on the table, hands wrapped protectively around his cup.

“You’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not. What’s your story?”

Five takes another sip of his coffee and then offers up, “Nothing interesting. I stayed in the system until I aged out.”

That tracks with how Five is but the information pulls in Diego’s chest and sinks in him. His father was, scratch that,  _ is _ an abusive nightmare who made his childhood a living hell but trying to picture a scenario where he didn’t get adopted leaves him feeling empty and sour. It’s hard to imagine what that must have been like for Five. Hell, Diego hears horror stories about kids in that situation pretty frequently from his connects at the precinct. Just last week he helped Patch bring in two foster parents on multiple accounts of child neglect. They had been locking the kids up in the basement like animals and pocketing the money sent to them for their care by the state. It’s a nasty world out there.

“And after?”

Five shrugs and pushes his now empty coffee cup to the side, interlocking his hands together.

“Then I went to college. Got my PhD in Quantum Physics. Right now I’m working on a government grant, studying alternate timelines.”

Diego whistles and calls out, “Impressive. I was going to guess accountant, or elegant dentist.”

“Was that your plan? Were you hoping for a free check up? If so, sorry to disappoint.” 

“You’re snappy,” Diego replies, leaning forward and cupping Five’s hands in his own. “I like that.” When Five doesn’t pull away he continues, “...So what’s so interesting about timelines?”

“It’s hard to explain.” 

“Try me.”

Five sighs.

“I’m trying to prove that our current timeline has branched off from it’s initial trajectory by such a large margin that it could only have been caused by the existence of unknown variables interrupting the timeline at non-linear points throughout history. I believe that we are living in...let’s call it timeline 2.0.”

“I don’t understand,” Diego says.  _ Nutcase _ , he thinks.  _ Insanely hot nutcase _ .

This time Five smirks at him, looking bratty and arrogant and entirely too sharp; “I know you don’t.”

*

“He sounds a little...off beat, Diego. Are you exclusively attracted to crazy people now?”

“No, he’s like a genius or something-”

Ben cuts him off.

“And you’re sure he’s into you?”

Meeting with Ben is always weird for Diego. He’s the only one of his siblings that still talks to him, and he does it sparingly, not wishing to be caught by their father and become a disappointment by association. Even now, there are subjects that they tiptoe around- Dad, their childhood, their powers. The only upside is that with those topics off the table, Diego can almost pretend that they are normal. Just two brothers catching up in a park. Except one of them is in his 30’s and still wearing a school uniform. Diego squashes down the urge to shake him- he is trying to make peace with the fact that his siblings will never get out from under their dad’s thumb.  _ Trying _ being the key word.

“No.Yes. I-,” Ben is looking incredulously at him now, stopped in the middle of the walkway and Diego takes a moment to think about it, and finally he settles on, “He’s making me work for it. We’ve been out a few times. We went to that vegetarian thai bistro, you know the one, and we saw that movie, about the teachers who rob a bank? with Sandra Bullock and that other girl in it and...we had a good time; there’s something there. And I  _ know  _ he feels it too or else he wouldn’t keep coming back. He’s just so hard to get a read on...”

And it’s true. After the movie, they got heavy on the side of the theatre but Five refused to come home with him. An improvement from the restaurant for sure- that time Five pulled away when he kissed him, but still the signals are fuzzy. Five has yet to be the one to initiate physical contact between them.

“Have you tried surprising him?,” Ben asks, picking up their pace and forcing Diego to keep up.

“You mean with flowers or something?”

Ben glances over at him, exasperated, “No, I mean that you should show up at his work. See how he behaves when he’s not expecting you.”

*

“Diego,” Five says, smiling softly down at him, “It’s nice to see you.”

Diego grabs the ladder, and holds it steady so Five can climb down it. He was on the highest rung, stretching his arms up to write on the ceiling. The entire room is covered in chalkboard paint and chicken scratch, notes and equations tangled up and scribbled over each other, making up a bizarre and unreadable constellation of letters, numbers, and symbols. Diego has serious doubts that anybody alive could make sense of this.

“Yeah, well,” Diego says, pulling Five flush against his chest as he steps off the ladder, “I was in the neighborhood.”

Five furrows his eyebrows at him.

“You were not.” 

It’s said conspiratorially, teasingly, and it leaves Diego feeling warm even as Five turns away from him to wipe the chalk off of his hands. God bless Ben and his even-tempered advice.

Five turns back to him, rolling the sleeves of his white button up back down as he does it, but neglecting to recuff them; “You’re father came to see me, by the way.”

Diego recoils from that but quickly reschools his face. Ben must’ve told him. Dirty little traitor. Of course Five’s work would interest his Dad. It’s exactly the type of stuffy academic shit that he tried to force all of them to take an interest in for years. But that’s not it. Diego can’t tell if he’s pissed because he thinks that his Dad is still finding subtle ways to intrude in his life and manipulate him, or if he’s pissed because he thinks that his Dad can’t be bothered to take an interest in  _ him,  _ but is willing to make time for somebody else. For a second there he feels adolescent and small again, desperately clawing for his father’s approval, hideous in the face of his jealousy as he watches somebody else earn his attention. He shakes it off.

“Did he?,” He asks, trying not to sound too eager, “What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” Five says, removing his glasses to wipe them on the hem of his shirt, “He’s a dick.”

“That’s about right.”

“He asked me if I knew who he was and then proceeded to  _ lecture me  _ on how my theories are ‘possible but not probable.’ He said that I’m wasting my potential. As if he could even  _ begin _ to understand even a _ fraction  _ of what I-”

Diego interrupts his rant, staving off the temper tantrum he senses on the other end of it. He learned pretty quickly that Five has a hairpin temper that is not to be trifled with. His boy goes for the throat.

“I know, wonder boy, I know,” Diego says, placing a hand on Five’s waist, “Why don’t you let me walk you home? You can try to explain all this,” he emphasizes with a wave of his hand around the room, “to me again?”

Five nods his consent and begins gathering his things.

*

It’s dark out by the time they leave, and the early autumn air is chilly, but Five’s hand is warm where he holds it in his own. Five had grabbed onto him without a word and Diego had somehow understood that Five did not want the action to be acknowledged in any way. Affection, he’s beginning to realize, is hard for Five. It’s easy to see how growing up in the system might do that to a person. Diego, at least, always had his Mom and sometimes his siblings. Who did Five ever have?

They walk mostly in silence, with Five leasing. It hits Diego that this will be the first time that he sees where Five lives. He’s tried to picture it before, how Five would live, but he’s so peculiar that no single idea would fit. Not a hyper-modern apartment in the heart of the city or a rustic antique townhouse or a generic bachelor pad. The actual place will be something to see, if Five keeps it anything like how he keeps his workspace.

They’ve only gone three blocks when Diego realizes that they’re being tailed. The streets are busy enough that whoever it is could’ve gotten away with it, if Diego wasn’t keenly attuned to his surroundings at all times, that is.

Diego keeps a tight hold on Five’s hand and drags him into the nearest alleyway.

“What exactly do you-”

“Stay here.”

It’s two people. A man and a woman, both in suits. The man is carrying a bulky suitcase in his left hand. They keep a couple of paces away from each other and stop on somebody's front stoop when they lose sight of them.

“God damn it, we lost him. Why can’t we just kill the little bastard again?” the woman says, sitting down on the steps and flinging a gun around in her hands. Do they mean Five?

“I don’t know,” the man says, “Take it up with Herb.”

“Man, shit’s gotten weird since he took over. All this red tape. Used to be you could just kill them and get it over-”

Diego swings one of his knives at them, knocking the gun out of the woman’s hands and into the street. While the two are scrambling around, he takes the opportunity to run up on them. He drop kicks the man to the ground and plants his foot on his neck.

“Now, you’re going to tell me what the hell you wa-”

The woman wraps her hands around his neck from behind and he can’t breathe. He tries to tug her off but the angle is bad and his efforts are proving useless until he hears a dull thud and his neck is suddenly free. He turns in time to see Five tossing away a crowbar.

“I told you to stay where you were,” Diego grits out, “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

Five quirks an eyebrow at him and pulls him forward to examine his neck, “I don’t take orders from you,” he says, as if that’s an acceptable answer and Diego should just leave it. Not a fucking chance.

“I’m trained for this-” he starts, not noticing that the woman has gotten up again until she hits Five over the head with the same crowbar he discarded earlier. When Diego sees him next, Five is on the ground, clutching his head in his hands, and the man and the woman have run off and disappeared into the street crowd again.

“Fuck,” he says, crouching down to check on Five. There’s a gash on his forehead that’s bleeding in angry red bursts down the side of his face.

*

They go back to Diego’s apartment because it’s closer by, and because he has a first aid kit. 

He has Five sat on his couch and he’s using a cotton ball dosed with disinfectant to dab at the cut on his forehead, while Five stews in discontent and tries to convince Diego that he’s fine. All things considered, he’s more docile about it than Diego would’ve thought. He counts his blessings.

“If you bring that cotton ball near me again I swear to god I will shove it up your ass.”

“Kinky,” Diego says, tossing the cotton ball in the trash, “Didn’t take you for the type.”

He goes to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.

“You hungry?” Diego calls over his shoulder. They missed dinner and Diego doesn’t watch all those food network shows for nothing. 

“I’m leaving.” Five says, standing up, and Diego moves quickly to block him from the door.

_ “Move. Now.” _

Diego puts a hand on his arm, “Five,” he says as if coaxing a spooked deer, “You’re already here. Just stay the night. Are you really going to go home by yourself after what just happened?”

Five drops his glare, and Diego can see that he’s hesitating so he cups his face and inches closer.

“Just let me take care of you, alright. It doesn’t have to be more than that.”

Five swallows and nods, “Fine,” he gives in and it comes out shaky. 

Diego leans in, “Good boy,” he says, and then they’re making out against his door.

*

Diego hadn’t expected Five to stay but when he wakes up alone in the morning he’s disappointed. He knows, deep down, that trying to keep Five is like trying to corral a feral animal and that he’s more likely to get bit for his efforts than he is to be rewarded- but still, a guy’s allowed to dream.

The time on his phone reads 6:17am and Diego rubs his head against the pillow in frustration. He’s a little over an hour late for his morning workout, and now his whole day is going to be thrown off.

Diego pushes himself out of bed and stretches. He tosses off his boxers and rummages through his drawers for acceptable gym clothes. He digs around for a long time, not really paying attention to what he’s doing. In his mind he keeps seeing Five from last night. Lean and graceful, legs wrapped around Diego’s waist. Haughty and demanding, moaning commands into his ear while Diego pounded him against the wall. 

Diego gives up on getting dressed and coats his hand in spit. He’s achingly hard. With his other arm braced on the dresser, he forms a circle with his hand and begins fucking into it. It’s not long before he’s cumming- leaving sticky white spurts on the front of his drawers. 

He takes a moment to come down and then picks up his dirty boxers from last night. He uses them to wipe the drawers clean and then finally he pulls on some exercise shorts and a tanktop.

He’s lacing up his shoes when the blue light appears in his kitchen and Five steps through it, appearing as if through thin air-with two cups of coffee and a paper bag in hands.    
  
“You’re awake.”

Diego grabs his knives.

“Get out.”

Five stays planted where he is and speaks carefully, “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can,” Diego says, words mocking and angry, just this side of manic, “I should’ve known. You know, every few years one of you comes around. Well I got news for you- The Sparrow Academy doesn’t give a shit about you and they never will.”

The blonde german one from last year had to learn that lesson the hard way. The guy was built like a tank and could lift a fucking car over his head without breaking a sweat but his dad took one look at him and sent him packing. Didn’t even say why.

“That’s not-”

“I don’t care. Get the fuck out. And use the door.”

Five disappears in a switch of blue light, the same way he came in, leaving the coffee and the bag on the counter. When he’s gone, Diego slams a knife into the counter where he was standing.

*

“Tell me everything.”

Five sighs and climbs down the ladder. The closer he gets to the floor, the worse he looks. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is all over the place. His usual button up has been traded in for a plain white t-shirt and even that is wrinkled. The bastard looks miserable. Good. It’s the least he deserves. 

Diego gave himself a week to brood before he tracked Five down at work. A week spent beating up petty criminals and snapping at anybody who dared to speak to him. Patch is going to be pissed at him for months. He had to work to remind himself that he needs to cover all his bases. Five might just be another Sparrow Academy obsessed wannabe, or he could be a danger to his family. Diego’s not willing to take the chance.

“Do you remember what I told you about timelines?”

Diego nods, “That we’re living in an incorrect one.”

“Close enough. I think your father has something to do with it.”

Five’s off his rocker in general, but if it were true, Diego wouldn’t find it shocking. He’s long since suspected that his Dad has had a hand in the worst of the worst. When he was young he used to have these vivid nightmares that involved his dad holding a black umbrella and watching John F. Kennedy get shot. He never really grew out of them.

“So that was it then? You wanted to get to him just like everybody else and I was an easy target..” He pauses, “You knew I’d tell my brother about you.”

Five takes off his glasses and rubs at his face, “What? I’m not omniscient, Diego. I knew something would get back to Reginald. I didn’t know what or how much. I think he has some sort of paper trail that could back everything up. I just needed an in.”

“Why not just…” Diego motions his hand forward.

Five sits on the ladder, resting his chin on his fist.

“You don’t think I’ve thought of that?,” He says in a clipped tone, as if he has any right to be snappy with Diego right now, “Last time I attempted to jump into his mansion I got thrown back out. It was like being shocked by an electric fence. It’s almost as if he’s prepared for me.”

“And what about the guys from earlier?,” Diego asks, “You have something to do with that?”

“No, but they’re always following me. Just watching. Different ones, sometimes. For as long as I can remember, but I’ve never been able to get any answers out of them. The other night was the first time they’ve ever tried anything else.”

Diego considers this, studying his reflection one of his knives. He wouldn’t put it past his dad to have somebody tailed- but for a decade? Whatever he’s wrapped up in, it’s bad.

“I’ll help.” He says.

“You don’t have to.”

“-But I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it because the old man’s a shady bastard and he needs to be stopped.”

*

Diego stands by the door, listening for footsteps while Five ransacks his dad’s office. They had to wait until the academy was out on a mission before they could break in- minimizing the risk. Now they Just have to worry about Pogo and Diego’s mom. He doesn’t think that either of them will come this way without explicit orders to but being here sets him on edge. He feels like a child again, trying to cover his stuttering while his father looks on with disapproval.

“You got any idea what you’re looking for over there?”

Five opens another drawer and scans the files. When he comes up empty he huffs and slots the drawer back into the desk. They both agreed that it would be best to leave as little mess as possible- the longer it takes his dad to notice that something is missing, the better. It’ll be a while before he bothers to check the security cameras.

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

“How reassuring,” Diego replies, “Glad we decided to break in for that.”

They used a fire escape to get up the side of the building and then went in through Ben’s room. Diego remembered that he always liked to keep his window open when they were kids. Used to say whatever it is that lives inside of him makes him claustrophobic. That, like everything else about the place, hasn’t changed.

From there, Diego navigated them down the hall to his dad’s office and picked the lock.

Five has moved on to the bookshelves now, pulling out every individual book and opening it only to put it back when it fails to meet his requirements. Diego eyes him warily.

“How do you even know that this is all connected?,” He asks, a little more roughly than he intended. The longer he stands here, the more his faith in their mission deteriorates. Five’s story starts to seem less and less believable the more he looks at it.  _ Alternate timelines? _ Maybe he really is just some nutjob. It would make sense. And yet, Diego is still here.

Five doesn’t look up, flipping through a heavy textbook of some sort.

“I just do.”

_ “Elaborate.” _

“I can’t explain it,” Five starts, and in his voice Diego can hear years of pent up frustration spilling out, “It’s like walking into a room and _ knowing _ that everything has been moved one centimeter off but not knowing how, or when, or why.” 

And yeah- Diego knows that feeling. It’s being certain that you’re right but having nobody believe you. It’s holding your breath in a noxious room and watching as everybody else passes out. It’s tracking down small time drug dealers in an alley when you’re off shift because it’s the only way they’ll give you any information. It’s being the only one who left when everybody else stayed.

“All this- you know I can almost understand it now,” Diego says, using the clock on the wall to check the time. They’ve been here 20 minutes.

Five stops digging through the shelves to look Diego in the eye; “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t...I didn’t mean for things to go so far.” 

Diego doesn’t buy that bullshit for a second.

_ “Then why did they? _ ” 

Five clenches his teeth and turns back to the shelves, and Diego doesn’t expect an answer but he gets one anyways.

“What do you want me to say, Diego? That I’m sorry? That you made it hard for me to pull away? That I overestimated my ability to stay detached from the situation? I did. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Diego says, walking over to Five with his arms crossed, “Now give me a real answer.”

Five refuses to face him, but he responds so softly that Diego almost thinks that he imagined it.

“...Because you’re you... And you wanted me to stay.”

_ Ah. _

When Five picks up another book, intending to keep searching, Diego grabs his wrist.

“Five.” 

Five wrenches his wrist free and Diego goes back to his position by the door. The next few minutes pass in silence until Diego hears heels clacking on wood in the hallway.  _ Mom.  _

“Five,” he tries to get his attention, but Five is on the floor with six folders spread out in his lap, “We have to go.”

Five holds up a disk in a clear cover with the words ‘Dallas 1963’ written on the front; “This is it,” he says. Diego grabs the folders and they make it out just as his mom is opening the door to the office, and a long black car pulls up at the gates.

*

They have the six files spread out on Diego’s coffee table. One of them is Diego’s, and is Five’s- these are two that they don’t need to read. The other four are more confusing. Diego recognizes two of them from their photos. The one marked ‘Luther’ is the german with super strength who had tried to get their attention before, and the one marked ‘Allison’ is an actress. He’s seen a few of her movies. The other two- ‘Klaus’ and ‘Vanya,’ respectively- are a complete mystery to him. Five doesn’t seem to have any clues either.

Diego grabs the disk and inserts it into his laptop, sitting thigh to thigh with Five on his couch.

The footage is grainy but easy enough to make out. On screen is the four people from the files, Diego, and a boy, no older than his early teens, who is clearly Five. They’re all sitting at a table with a fruit platter in the middle, arguing with each other when Reginald walks on screen and takes the empty seat. That’s where the tape cuts off.

Diego closes the laptop and sets it on top of the files. This is a lot of information to take in in a single night. Diego’s first urge is to keep moving, to do something,  _ anything _ to feel like he’s gaining ground, just to get the restless energy out, but then he looks and Five is far away and quiet, eyes unfocused. Diego doesn’t like it.

“Hey,” Diego tries, nudging him with his knee, “You were right.”

Five blinks at him, “I knew that.”

“Yeah, but now you have proof. Wasn’t that the point of all this?”

“You’re right,” Five replies, with no conviction, and Diego stands up, stretching. He’ll tuck this moment away as a win for later, when things are less fresh.

“It’s getting late,” he states.

Five nods and stands, still a little dazed. 

“I’ll go. Thank you for your help. You won’t have to see me again.”

Diego manages to grab Five before he can reach the door. Belatedly, he realizes that Five was only going to use the door at all because he told him to earlier.

“Five, hold up. You can’t just leave like that.”

Five looks at him in confusion, standing ramrod straight, and that’s when the truth hits Diego.  _ Five is actually an idiot _ . 

“But that’s what you want.”

“You’re shit at guessing how other people feel.”

Five furrows his eyebrows, and is still trying to process when Diego leans in and kisses him. Five melts into it.

“I want this, Five,” Diego says, pulling away to look directly at him, “I want you. But you have to be all in, all right? No more secrets. None of that bullshit from before.”

Five doesn’t respond, but kisses him hard, pushing towards the bed- and then he’s straddling him as soon as his back hits the mattress- pulling Diego’s shirt over his head with rapid movements and kissing down his chest. 

Diego helps him by pulling his pants off, but Five is sucking him through his boxers and those are quick to go too.

“Baby, you’re such a fucking tease-” Diego says, breaking off into a moan as Five swishes his tongue across the tip of his dick before swallowing him completely, sucking him like his life depends on it.

Diego bucks up into Five’s mouth and tugs on his hair, listening to him gag.

“Fuck, Five-,” 

And then he’s spilling down Five’s throat.

“Next time,” he says, watching Five undress, “I’m going to bend you over the counter and fuck you like that.”

He smiles as Five climbs into bed with him, setting his glasses on the nightstand.

“...I’d like that.”

“I know you would.”

*

Diego is woken up by the sound of his phone ringing. It’s still late, and Five’s arm is around his stomach, blocking him in, and there’s a tiny pool of drool on his chest, next to Five’s head. 

He reaches over Five for his phone. The caller ID says Ben and Diego ignores it, but he can’t ignore the message that pops up on the screen.

_ “You need to come home.”  _

Following that message is a photo. It’s everybody from the disk- only they’re standing in the foyer of the mansion, directly across from his siblings.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of people were saying that Reginald would specifically not adopt the Umbrella Academy kids after meeting them in the 60's because of how he perceived their behavior but I can't imagine how would be able 43 un-named or differently named babies who likely haven't presented their powers yet apart to get away with that so I'm running with the idea that they just screwed up the timeline so much that he ended up with a bunch of different kids which is how i can justify him still ending up with Ben and for my purposes Diego.
> 
> As far as the Allison movie nod goes, I suspect that she would've ended up taking that route no matter what- who wouldn't with her power?


End file.
